


i could live my life all day (watch the sun turn grey)

by sammyspreadyourwings



Series: Ad Astra per Aspera [11]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, American Tour, Blood and Injury, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gore, Hospitalization, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, Medical Procedures, Multi, Nightmares, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Permanent Injury, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Some Fluff, Some Humor, Violence, Werewolf Hunters, Werewolf Mates, ask to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2020-10-19 18:27:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20661740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammyspreadyourwings/pseuds/sammyspreadyourwings
Summary: Queen is on their first tour of America. Brian isn't thrilled with the idea of being a lykan in the states, but everything seems to be going so well for him lately.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here it is, the first chapter of the America arc. I'm really happy that we finally got to this point because I've been waiting for this since I first posted this series. There's only one other thing I'm more excited for! Please enjoy, and read tags!

Brian rubs at the collar around his neck. The leather is soft and isn’t cutting into his throat like he has heard they can, but he hates the way he can feel it every time he takes a breath. Freddie had done his best to find something that looks more like a choker, and something he would wear willingly. He had done a good job too, the collar itself is black and then Freddie had spent hours painting on tiny little designs, golden vines that had stars instead of leaves.

It really was beautiful; Brian wishes that he could appreciate it more.

Roger frowns, “okay?”

“Yeah,” Brian says, “mostly.”  
Roger nods and turns back to where he is busy keeping John upright. John is only two beers deep, but Roger had also fed from him shortly before they came here. Freddie laughs as John sways again. Brian sniffs the air; John’s rainy scent is buried under Roger’s and cheap whiskey. The entire bar smells like smoke and pot and alcohol, and there are a few hints of silver, it makes what little food he’s managed to choke down swirl uneasily in his stomach.

“Here,” Freddie pushes over a mug.

Brian sniffs it, and then shakes his head, “no thanks.”

Freddie leans against him, mirroring how John looks half asleep on Roger’s shoulder. He watches the stiff movement of Roger’s hand on John’s back and the way he keeps pulling at his bottom lip. They had decided to keep their status on the down-low, as much as their fans already know what they are, while in the states. It had cut down Roger’s potential meals, so John had volunteered as a replacement.

Brian still must bite back the growl at seeing his mate so defenseless, the reason he is sitting next to Freddie rather than the three of them squeezing onto one bench, worried that he might snap at Roger. If John wants to sit with Roger that’s fine. He pouts and huffs, and Freddie pinches his hand in warning.

Three men approach the table and this time Brian has no trouble keeping the growl buried. Silver and wolf’s blood drips from them in waves. He ducks his head while keeping one eye on them. Freddie and Roger lean over the table covering him and John.

“What can we do for you gentlemen?”

“Wanted to check the tags on your beast back there,” the man’s voice wavers.

Brian bites his cheek. Clearly, they hadn’t realized that they _weren’t _American and that only makes things worse for him. He glances around, swallowing when the only exit is the front door. Not that he could get there without going past the hunters.

Roger bristles, eyes quickly shifting from blue to a muddy red color, “excuse me?”

Freddie leans further in front of him.

“Well, mutt’s got a collar, figured he has the tags to go with it.”  
“Obviously we aren’t American,” Freddie smiles.

Brian catches the magic in his voice, Freddie can’t get the full force of his magic without singing, but he can’t tip these people off.

“And we don’t have laws like that. Only the collar is legally required for us.”

The man scowls. Brian gasps as his breathing picks up. His friend is flashing the knife on his belt, and the claws that hang from the sheath. These men aren’t just hunters that have gotten lucky. He reaches under the table to squeeze Freddie’s forearm. Roger’s eyes flick to him and back.

“That won’t be necessary gentlemen,” Roger smiles.

His eyes are narrowed, and his voice is tight. Brian feels the magic thicken in the air.

“I see that now, my apologies, it’s hard to know until you start talking. You can imagine my _concern _when I saw a beast like that breaking the law.”

Brian shrinks back at the anger in the man’s face. He feels sick. These men must have been waiting for the right Lykan to find himself alone in the bar, or perhaps one with friends that are like the rest of the population.

“Have a good night.”

John is jostled awake from where he had been sleeping on Roger’s shoulder. Brian is glad that John was spared that encounter at least. Freddie stands and turns to pull at him. His legs are locked because he can still scent the silver and wolf’s blood. He isn’t surprised to see that the men have returned to their corner booth. Smirking at him.

Brian pulls away from Freddie and presses his back against the wall. There are people coming in the door and he just wants _out._ Freddie steps away to get an arm wrapped around John’s waist while Roger pays their tab. His eyes don’t leave the corner table, careful to not let them know he is staring.

He doesn’t want them lashing out at anyone in his pack.

When Freddie takes the first step, Brian is on his feet grabbing Roger and Freddie and practically dragging from the bar. John complains about the movement making him sick. He feels a flash of guilt, but he doesn’t stop until they’re at the corner.

Brian sniffs the air anxiously, but all he smells is the unfamiliar scent of an American city. Roger moves towards him, palms up. He doesn’t move as Roger gently cradles his face and pulls him down so that their foreheads bump together. The wind blows Roger’s scent to him and he lets the scent of _homesafety _calm him.

John thumps into his side. Eyes glassy and unfocused but he seems concerned.

“Brian, okay?”

Brian nods and nuzzles against John’s cheek. He reaches around for Freddie and pulls the singer to him, nuzzling him as well. Their scents tangle together. Roger running a hand through his hair.

“Hotel?” John asks softly.

“Please.”

They don’t bother waiting for a car, having chosen this bar for its proximity to the hotel. It was an easier walk when John was only slightly unsteady from the blood loss. Brian must carry John on his back in order to make any significant progress and not worry about John falling on his face and hurting something. John keeps pressing his nose into the space behind his ear.

Brian tilts into it, fighting the urge to drop John and return the gesture. Roger is holding one of John’s hands and Freddie’s in the other. The receptionist gives them a strange look as they pass, Brian can faintly hear the party going on in the restaurant, Ian’s voice piercing through the din in a very drunk rendition of _Hey Jude. _

John hums along to it. He does make John get off his back when they enter the elevator. Roger takes him and pulls John to his chest, that strange tenseness back. He leans down and noses at Roger’s neck, blowing air out against it. It makes the blond laugh and swat at him. Brian stays because Roger can’t move much without John tipping over and Freddie doesn’t seem like he’s too keen on helping.

Brian tugs him into their space. Freddie squawks and tries to squirm away, but Brian has an arm wrapped around his shoulders. It doesn’t take long for Freddie to ease into the touch.

The elevator stops not much longer after that. They stumble out, a little unwilling to be apart from each other. Freddie’s room is the closest to the elevator.

“I’ll go when you get this one settled,” Freddie says.

“Whose room are we taking over?” Roger asks.

Brian tilts his head. Roger’s room is next to Freddie’s, but his and John’s are further down the hallway, and closer to the emergency exit.

“John’s or mine?”

“Do you have your key?”

“Here!” John pulls the key from his back pocket but ends flinging it several meters away.

Brian picks it up and shrugs to Roger. John is giggling about something, and he picks up a slurred speech about his behind. He flushes and hurries to get the door open. The room looks the same as his, the beds on the opposite wall, but same white sheets and pillowcases. One of John’s jumpers is on the bed.

He sniffs around, only smelling John’s faint scent and the industrial cleaner this place uses. This morning it hurt for him to even breath in this place, but thanks to foot traffic he might be able to get a good night’s sleep.

Roger dumps John on the bed. Freddie heads into the bathroom and Brian hears water running. Brian sits next to John quickly unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it to the side. They are in this city of another night, so he isn’t too worried about cleanliness now. Although he does make the note to pick up once John is sleeping.

It doesn’t take long for Roger to get John’s trainers and pants off and into the same corner as his shirt.

“Just pull the jumper on him,” Brian says.

Brian sits behind John to prop him up while Roger bunches up the fabric to easily put it over his arms. Freddie returns just as John’s head gets stuck in the jumper.

“It’s backward.”

Roger wrinkles his nose, “whoops.”

Brian snorts and barely keeps John from rolling off him.

“Sleep,” John mumbles.

“In a bit, love. Can you drink some water for us?”

“He should have orange juice,” Roger adds after a second, “I should have made sure we have some on hand.”

“Stop that,” Freddie says firmly.

Roger looks away. Brian helps get the cup to John’s lips, and John drinks about half of it before Brian gets worried that it’s becoming a choking hazard.

“Do you have something for the headache?”

Brian and Roger stared at Freddie blankly, “right. Forget I asked, I’ll have a tech pick some up tomorrow.”

“Thank you.”

Freddie leans forward and gives John a wet kiss on his forehead. The bassist giggles and tries to grab Freddie, who indulges the messy kiss to his cheek.

“Goodnight, Deaky. Take care you two.”

Brian nods. Roger is already manhandling John to get under the covers. He sets the glass on the nightstand and moves to throw everything together for the laundry service in the morning. Freddie picks up a stray sock and tosses at him. He catches it before it lands in his hair and grimaces at the scent of sweat.

“I’ll walk you out?”

“What a gentleman,” Freddie grabs his chest and fake swoons.

Brian bats at him as he passes by, setting the bag on the inside of the door. Roger is probably going to want to put his clothes in there too. Freddie opens the door and steps outside looking back at Roger and John cuddling on the bed.

“Deaks, I have to shower, I’ll be warm when I come back,” Roger whispers gently pulling at John’s grasp.

“Disgusting,” Freddie laughs.

Brian grins, “oh absolutely, I don’t know how I stand it.”

“Goodnight, Bri, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Of course, are you going back out?”

Freddie purses his lips, “I was thinking about it, the night is young, and I still have so much energy.”

“Be careful,” Brian adds.

“I will be, I’ve got those coins you force us to carry.”

“That’s so you can call someone instead of letting us assume you’re hurt somewhere.”

“Ta,” Freddie smiles, “have a good night.”

Brian leans forward and nuzzles against Freddie. A little extra comfort for him and insurance in case any other lykans get bold. Freddie pushes him back after a second and his eyes dart across his face.

“Are you okay?” Freddie frowns, “I know those men in the bar…”

“Nothing I wasn’t expecting,” Brian lies easily, “and nothing worse than what I’ve dealt with.”

“Are you sure? You didn’t… look like you.”

Brian shakes his head, smiling, “I just don’t like aggravating them is all. Especially with John how he was, and I don’t know what they were carrying on their person. Silver tends to cover up a lot of scents.”

_Not wolf’s blood, _his mind adds. Brian keeps his face neutral. He doesn’t want to be the reason Freddie would end the tour. They had made that stipulation in the contract _because _of that exact reason. There’s no way he is going to let Queen die because some assholes have a grudge against his entire kind.

Freddie pats him once on the face and gives him a kind smile, “let us know if you ever feel unsafe. I know Roger would rather he die before anything happens to you or John.”  
Brian grimaces, “I’d rather he not.”  
“Oh I’m sure he thinks the same of you, and John about the both of you.”

He laughs, “we might need to work on that.”

“I agree.”

“You to, Freddie, we don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Freddie’s eyes shimmer briefly before he leans up and nuzzles against Brian, “okay I’m going for real this time.”

“Goodnight, Fred.”

“Night Brian. Tell the boys?”

“I will.”

Roger has extracted himself from John. The faint scent of his shampoo leaks out of the bathroom. Brian heads over to where John is already lost to the world. Sprawled across the bed and snoring loudly. Brian chuckles and moves away to set his things on the table.

He pulls out his set of keys and his change from the candy bar he bought at one of the petrol stations earlier. Brian frowns and checks his pockets again. He pats his jumper pockets and feels a receipt.

Well.

Brian moves over to Roger’s pile of clothes. He finds Roger’s wallet, with an old sketch of him as his ID for his driver license, and his key card. He folds them over before setting them on the bench inside the door and digging through John’s pants, John’s wallet is there too along with a few stowed sweets he’s sure the cleaning service wouldn’t enjoy finding.

He sets both wallets on the desk in the room and then scans the room with his hands on his hips. Brian lets out a long sigh and raises his eyes to the ceiling. When would he have lost his wallet? He had to have it to get into the bar… so sometime after that. With any luck it fell out in the hallway. He snatches the room key and glances out into the hallway before shuffling along and finding nothing.

Brian bites his tongue before returning to his room. Roger is staring at him with a raised eyebrow while toweling off his hair.

“B?”

“I lost my wallet.”

“You’re kidding.”

Brian shakes his head, “no I checked everyone’s pockets but Fred’s. It doesn’t make much sense he’d have it.”

Roger drapes the towel across his shoulders, “you still have your passport, yes?”

“Yeah, it’s in my bag.”

“Well, let’s worry about the rest later, there’s nothing important, well obviously it’s important but nothing irreplaceable right?”

“Nothing like that, but it’s a pain to get everything redone.”

Roger shrugs, “well yeah.”

“I’m going to go back to the bar and look.”

Roger’s head whips up from where he’s digging in his suitcase. His eyes are wide, “seriously?”

“If I don’t find it then that’s it, but maybe it’s somewhere easy to find.”

“No,” Roger says, “absolutely not.”

“Roger.”

“Brian, this is _America. _You can’t just go look around alone.”

“I’m an adult,” Brian snaps, “I can do whatever I please.”

“You’ve heard the stories.”  
“Roger, I’m going to be gone forty-five minutes top. Those hunters have probably moved on already.”

He knows they have. Picking out a series of bars to scope out for any kind of supernatural. Wolf’s Head is the same, in fact they move more because Lykans are quick to pass the message along about where they’re congregating.

Roger shakes his head, “please don’t.”

Brian moves to nuzzle the crown of his head, “I’ll be okay. Less than an hour, love.”

He feels Roger’s hands grip his wrist tightly, “I’ll go with.”

“Someone needs to stay with Deaky,” Brian says softly.

“Can’t Freddie?” Roger squeezes his wrists.

“Fred went out again.”  
Roger worries his bottom lip with one of fangs. Brian tugs his arms out of Roger’s grasp. He wraps his hands in Brian’s.

“Please,” Roger whispers, “let it go, Brian.”

Maybe he should listen to Roger? He does need his wallet. It’s only a few blocks and he’s _certain _the hunters have moved on.

“I’ll be fine,” Brian replies softly, “if I’m not back in an hour and a half, then you can call someone, okay?”

Roger shakes his head, “I don’t like this.”

Brian leans down and kisses his cheek. Roger pulls him into a tight hug.

“I will, you know. I’ll call the second it’s been ninety-one minutes.”

“Of course, love.”

They kiss, Roger’s scent bitter with his fear and his kiss urgent. Brian returns it gently, trying to reassure him that he will be fine. He has done things like this already on the tour. The hunters must have shaken Roger up more than he thought.

It takes a few more reassurances before Roger lets him go, still worrying his bottom lip but he does let Brian leave with no more complaints. Brian sniffs the air making sure that he doesn’t smell himself in the hallway or elevator.

The receptionist says that she hasn’t had one turned in recently. Brian smiles even though she scowls at him. Brian zips up his jacket, the wind picking up. He glances up at the moon, it’s nearly full which explains the aggressiveness of the hunters, and he is relieved that his shift was last month, just before they started this leg of the tour.

Brian keeps his eyes to the ground, making sure that he’s following the exact path that they had taken from the bar. There are only a few people out, but as soon as they see the collar on his neck they skip to the other side of the road. He pulls the jacket tighter around him and smells the disgusting scent of cigarettes and pot again.

There is only a trace of silver, and Brian shrugs. It might be a ring or jewelry. Besides the bar is mostly populated, Brian glances around and sees that the booth they were originally sitting in has been taken over by a group of university-aged girls.

He squeezes his way to the barkeep. Several people flinching away from him as though him touching them can give them lykanthropy.

“Excuse me!” He yells over the crowd.

The barkeeper glances at him, “wait a minute.”

“Sorry, I just wanted to know if you found a wallet?”

“Oh, yeah, it’s in the back.”  
Brian straightens and looks towards the back of the bar. He doesn’t like how secluded it is from the rest of the bar. The man finishes mixing the drink before coming over to him.

“I’ll be back in a moment.”

Brian presses against the bar, keeping the hood of his jacket covering his neck. He scans the room, relieved that there is no sign of the men from before. People press against them, demanding the second barkeeper’s attention to refill their drinks. Brian gags as someone who smells like they’ve been dipped in a marijuana plant presses against him.

The bartender comes back and hands him the wallet. Brian is relieved to see that it’s his. He smiles and turns around only to get a nose full of silver and wolf’s blood. His eyes flick upwards to see that it’s the man from before. Brian swallows and looks away.

“Glad you found your wallet,” the man says with a friendly tilt.

“Uh, yeah,” Brian says softly.

“Fantastic.”

The man wraps an arm around Brian’s shoulders and when he tries to move away, he feels something sharp press into his rib cage. He gasps.

“Let’s go have a chat, hm?”

Brian looks around for help, but it seems like every patron is either busy or very obviously looking the other way. He tightens his grip on his wallet and nods minutely. The man drags him out and into the alleyway between the bar and abandoned shop. He stiffens as the smell of wolf’s blood grows thicker. There are the two from earlier and a young woman who is looking nervously at him.

She only has the wooden pendant around her neck.

When he’s shoved forward, his hands move out to catch him. The scrapes start healing automatically, but his nails sharpen out to claws and he can feel his fangs start to elongate. He breathes through his mouth, knowing that fighting might make things worse for him.

The woman is handed a silver dagger and the man behind him, clearly the leader of this group grabs the D-ring on his collar yanking his head back. Brian makes eye contact with the woman. Her hands are shaking, and he desperately shakes his head. Begging her not to do this.

“It’s easy. Like gutting a pig,” the man says.

Brian growls and snaps his mouth at him. The yank on his collar sends him sprawling forward.

“Easy there, _pet_.”

“Not so brave without your friends there to protect you.”

“I don’t get that, what’d you tell them to make them care about an animal like you?” A third one says.

He blows air through his nose. His father always told him to not fight, that they’d get bored or run if he could. Brian casually looks around. There’s a fence down one side of the alley, he could easily leap it if he transforms. With his luck he would get picked up by the police and he would have to run through the hunters.

The other way is the leader. Brian knows he is faster and stronger, but he doesn’t know what the man has on him, not to mention he is ready for Brian to make a run for it.

He isn't surprised when a knife slides across his upper arm. Brian hisses in pain. The silver causes the wound to itch and burn. The man laughs. His hand wraps around the injury.

“I- I can’t,” the woman whispers.

Brian’s eyes flick over to hers. The knife is at her feet and she is staring at Brian wide-eyed.

“Oh, come on, it isn’t human!”

She shakes her head, “I won’t. He _is _a person.”

He chokes as his head is yanked by the D-ring. The leader his holding him up high enough that his knees are barely touching the ground. It’s cutting off enough air that he is worried that his survival instincts are going to kick in. The rest of his teeth start shifting, and he growls as best he can without the air.

“See?”

“Don’t!” The woman cries.

“You can leave,” the man says, “but we’ve got a responsibility to make sure it doesn’t hurt a human. Like the one hanging around his friends earlier.”

Brian stills, they can’t be talking about John?

“And we’ll go and dust that vampire too.”

His isn’t aware of when he got his feet under him and rammed his entire body weight into the man holding him up. The collar snaps and he pins the man beneath him snapping his jaws near his throat. He gets a smirk seconds before Brain feels arms coming near him.

Brian rolls away from the wild swing crouched down and bones clicking together. His claws sharpened and teeth bared.

“See what I mean?” The man waves towards him.

He steps closer and Brian stands to meet him, desperately trying to push his transformation back. The man swings overheard at him and he catches it, his nails digging into the skin of the hunter's arm. Brian isn’t expecting the strike to his throat. He doubles over coughing as his hyoid snaps back into place. The feeling making him sick. He feels something pierce through his stomach, itching and burning like crazy.

It burns for a split second before an icy feeling starts to creep from it.

He barely has time to look up through the tears before his head is being yanked back. The lead hunter grabs his throat again. Brian scratches his entire arm. He knows the man is going to need stitches, and the cuts are deep enough Brian is feeling bone.

“A fighter,” the man snarls.

Brian snarls right back at him. Blinking fiercely at the tiredness building.

“But you aren’t very good at it.”

Brian raises one leg and delivers the hardest kick that he can. It hits the man in the groin. He sucks in a quick breath before trying to bolt towards the opening of the alleyway. Something pokes him in the neck. He takes another second before it feels like electricity in flooding his nervous system.

He drops to the ground. His injured shoulder dropping into a puddle. Brian raises his hand to his neck and yanks out what looks like a syringe. He sniffs and between the scent of wolf’s blood and silver and adrenaline he can smell _dead blood. _

The leader holds his arm to his chest as he delivers a sharp kick to his stomach. Brian coughs weakly, his spit tasting heavily of copper, trying to focus through the sensation of his insides turning into molten lava. He gasps and tries to twist away from the sensation.

“It should take about two hours for that dosage to kill you,” the man says, “normally we’d just finish you off but, I respect that you fought so hard and smartly.”

His head is yanked up which only makes him hurt more he growls as he is brought near the man’s face.

“You didn’t try to beg, knew it wouldn’t work.”

Honestly, he hadn’t thought to. He wasn’t going to fight until they threatened Roger. Brian snaps his jaw as the man brings him closer, breathing on his face. He squirms but stops when it only makes everything spin. He is shoved back into the puddle and a knife kicked to him.

“If you know, the pain gets too much,” his voice sounds almost _caring._

Brian growls. The hunters walk past him, both each giving him sharp kicks to the stomach. Then he’s alone. He knows that there is a payphone at the end of the street, he could call Roger.

Roger told him not to go.

His good hand presses against his side at a surge of rolling boiling pain. He gasps and coughs and spits out more copper, but nothing is making it feel better. His jaw snaps together, cutting his tongue. Brian feels his body tighten and it’s like he is not in charge of it. He keeps trying to breathe, the knife mocking him.

All he needs is a few seconds of relief and he will get to the payphone.

There are soft hands on his face. He opens his eyes and the woman from before his leaning over him.

“Do you – I don’t have anything to help. But should I call someone?”

“Hospital,” Brian gasps out, “lykan.”

“Right, uh,” she flutters her arms around and grabs his wallet which has enough for two calls.

“Be right back. Please don’t die.”

Brian pulls his limbs tighter around his stomach. His vision going fuzzy around the edges, and the low light from the streetlamps and the emergency light on the bar dims.

The pain stops and his body goes limp. He stares at the reflection of the night sky in the puddle his arm is currently resting in. It’s nice that the pain stopped, even if one instinctual part of his brain is screaming that it’s not a good thing. The icy feel is crawling up his spine.

Brian feels himself being lifted from the water, and onto someone’s lap. Jasmine fills his nose as well as bitter fear. Weird. He buries his face into the familiar scent, trying to discard the bitterness as best he can.

The hands are on his face. He hears the voice saying something and Brian pries his eyes open. At first all he sees is tight black fabric. Brian is rolled onto his back, and the pain pierces the haze he is in. His insides burning, he whines. The jasmine is edged out by the fear again.

_Freddie?_

Brian blinks surprised that the singer is above him. Brown eyes almost black in the dark light. He sniffs, but it’s just Freddie.

“Brimi. Brian. Eyes on me, there you go.”

He closes his eyes, only to be shaken again. The burn is back, and it rips a groan from his throat.

Why is he so cold? Why is he cold if he feels like he’s on fire?

“Sorry.”

Freddie’s hands make nervous paths over his face and through his hair.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“Sorry, sorry.”  
It seems to be all he can say. Freddie’s eyes are shimmering, and Brian wonders when it started to rain.

“No, no. Don’t be. Keep your eyes on me.”

Brian’s eyes flutter and Freddie shakes him harder. He whines and presses his arms to his stomach trying to stop the flow of blood from the injury. Temporarily forgetting about the cut on his arm.

“I know it hurts. I know.”

Freddie soothes him, “I know.”

The woman comes back, “they’re coming.”

“Roger?” Brian asks.

Freddie smiles briefly, “the doctors. We’ll get Roger for you soon, okay? And John.”

“The number is on the paper – should I?”

“No, no. When we get to the hospital.”

Brian whines, “John?”

“He’ll be here soon, okay. But first the doctors have to see you.”

He shakes his head. He wants his mates now. Needs to tell them –

“Here.”

Freddie’s wrist is placed under his nose and Brian is easily able to sift through the bitter scent to find Freddie’s jasmine. The feeling isn’t quite as intense as it is with Roger and John, but Freddie still smells like _homesafety. _His eyes close as he buries his nose deeper.

“No, Brian, stay awake.”

Brian hums and loses himself further into the scent. Things aren’t hurting anymore, and he is tired. Hot too. On the outside, not the inside. He twists his back away from where the heat is radiating. Something pins him down and he bucks weakly against them. Soft hands touch his face.

They almost feel like John’s. Brian pushes into them.

“Mate,” he hums.

Then a blanket settles over him and he can’t smell anything. The hands on his face start feeling lighter and like they’re pulling away. He wonders where they’re going.

He hears a sharp cry and then further away a loud whining noise. Brian lets out a soft breath and falls into that nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we go with chapter number two!

Freddie scrubs his hands again. The hot water scalds him and he like there is blood under his nails. He spent minutes chipping off the black paint to prove to himself that there is none. His hands feel sticky.

He dries them off and moves to the bathroom door before the feeling is back like there’s something under his nails.

Freddie goes back to the sink and starts scrubbing his hands. There are scratches down the side of his thumb from where he tried to get off the dried blood and on his palm from where he rubbed his nails to clean them. He dries them off and moves to the bathroom door.

This time he does fight the urge to return to the sink. He _knows _they’re clean. He has spent half an hour making sure that they are. Freddie takes a deep breath and continues to walk down the corridor to the waiting room. Roger and John should be here soon. The only lykan friendly hospital was a city away, and Freddie very carefully didn’t mention that they nearly lost Brian on the way here.

Strangely enough, the girl from the alleyway has followed them here. She sits a polite distance away, but Freddie doesn’t need Vampire empathy to know that she feels guilty. He doesn’t want to ask, afraid of the answer.

Freddie sits on the edge of the seat, chewing at his newly chipped nails. If he hadn’t gone to a bar near to the one they had been to earlier, how long would it have taken for them to know about Brian? He swallows trying to block out the image of a too pale Brian laying in a puddle, whining and whimpering.

Hunters had seemed so abstract because they rarely messed with Dryads, but also because it’s barbaric just to attack someone for being something as basic as them being a lykan. They’re meant to protect humans from rampaging newborn vampires and others that have lost control. Not Brian, who just hours before was reassuring him that they’re a family. Not Brian who cries about squirrels playing in the yard. Not Brian who only wants to play music and stare at stars.

“Here for Brian May?”

Freddie looks up, the doctor is a human male. Graying at the temples and eyeglasses. He smells like blood, but Freddie can’t figure out where it is on his person. Maybe it’s on his hands too.

“Yes,” Freddie nods, he has so many questions.

He can’t figure out the first one to ask.

“We’ve managed to get the bleeding under control, and I don’t think we need to worry about infection considering his type,” the doctor says, “but do you happen to know what else he had in his system?”

Freddie blinks, “like drugs?”

“Does he take any?”

“No. None.”

“I need you to be completely honest with me, whatever is in his system is currently wrecking his immune system, it’s all we can do to keep him stable.”

“I don’t know. Unless they gave him something, he’s never –”

Freddie knows he wouldn’t because often Brian wrinkles his nose at any time he’s come home after taken something. Brian has also made the point that no matter what he takes, his system is just going to burn through it.

“Vampire blood.”

Freddie whips his head around to the girl. She’s tugging on the hem of her protective vest, and not making eye contact.

“They shot him with Vampire blood.”

The doctor opens his mouth when the girl pulls out an empty syringe. The glass is cracked but Freddie can see where it’s been stained red. He watches them transfer the container but doesn’t hear the discussion after that. His hearing is muffled, his head filled with rushing dread. Brian and Roger had always been so careful about it.

He bows his head and grips his neck tightly.

There’s a hand on his shoulder, the girl is looking him in the eye, “I’m sorry.”

He pulls away from her. She’s still wearing the wooden ankh. When she sees where he’s looking, she rips it away from her and tosses it into a nearby trash bin.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I thought – when I saw him, he looked like, like a person you know?”

“He _is _a person,” Freddie spits, surprising himself with the hostility.

“I know but I always thought. It doesn’t matter what I thought. I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

Freddie doesn’t care to understand her change of heart. Truly, because of whatever weird initiation hunters do, Brian is in surgery dosed with Vampire blood and cut with silver.

“Thank you for telling them about the blood,” he offers.

The woman’s eyes widen but she seems to accept his response. She vanishes to her corner. Freddie wants to yell at her to leave, to at least save her from Roger’s wrath. It doesn’t matter. The news will be the same either way and it might be better for Roger to have something tangible to be angry at.

Shit, John is still going to be drowsy and loopy from the drinking.

Freddie ends up biting his nail that he rips it. The pain grounds him for a second before it becomes too much. He flicks his hand trying to ease the sting. It doesn’t help and he rests it on his leg, instead worrying at his other nails.

He has gotten to his pinky by the time Roger and John stumble into the hospital. Roger’s eyes are dizzying shades of purple and red, fangs out and creasing his lips. John on the other hand… Freddie’s never seen anyone look so devastated his eyes are bright red and puffy from crying. Tear tracks have dried on his face. John looks sober too.

They practically run to him when they see him. Roger’s eyes flick to John to the doors and back to Freddie.

“Surgery,” Freddie manages to wheeze out.

John falls into the chair, tugging down the sleeves of his (not backward) jumper. Roger sits right on top of John perhaps comforting him with the weight or protecting him. Freddie keeps his gaze away from the hunter in the corner. If she has any sense, she’ll get out before Roger notices her.

“You just said he was hurt,” Roger forces out, “John said – John said he saw Brian being attacked.”

Freddie looks at John, “he saw?”

“He just started thrashing like a nightmare…”

Roger shakes his head, “Brian, now. Everything else later.”

“Hunters attacked him.”

Freddie hopes that’s explanation enough. He doesn’t want to think about how he was certain that he was too late until he heard Brian whimper softly. That he didn’t know if there was a chance to save him until he saw unfocused golden eyes. He can only be grateful Brian hadn’t fully shifted into his wolf form.

“What did they do to him?”

“Silver,” Freddie says, “…and Vampire blood apparently.”

As predicted Roger is off John and pacing the tiny squares made from the chairs. His hands are tugging nervously on his hair, pulling it down and twisting it around his finger. John curls up in the chair now that he doesn’t have any weight on him.

“Arm and stomach, right?” John whispers.

“How did you?”

“I saw it. It felt like I was… Brian? I don’t know.”

Freddie bites his lip, mind spinning with the information, but it feels like there is something blocking the clog from completing the thought. He worries if his hands are clean. Will they smear on John’s jumper?

“He is going to be okay?”

He doesn’t know. Freddie wants to comfort John, but he doesn’t want to lie to him. They had taken so long in getting Brian here, that they lost him in the ambulance. Brian’s healing doesn’t matter because of the silver. Freddie knows Vampire blood is poison to lykans, but he doesn’t know it does or if they can ever counteract it.

“Of course,” Roger says surprisingly steady, “he’ll be back to nosing at us in no time.”

Freddie stands. He can see how Roger is tightening up his emotions, the red is ringing around his iris and none of that famous Taylor fury is on display. Roger clicks his teeth once in warning. Freddie ignores it and wraps around him. Roger tries to fight him before sinking into the hug. He is shaking and practically trying to climb inside Freddie.

It only takes another thirty seconds before he feels the wetness start to form on his shirt. He turns his head and slowly backs them on to a bench, rather than a chair. John clambers over to them, slipping under Freddie’s arm.

Taking care of people is something that he can do. He looks around the waiting room. No one else is within hearing range. Freddie starts to sing in the older tongue, a song of calmness. It isn’t fair to do that to them, but Roger feels like he is about to explode and John seems like he is going to implode. Both sag against him.

The magic only works so long as he sings. His voice is scratchy from the previous day’s concert, and he was looking for a break. He keeps singing for what feels like hours. It is hours when he looks at the clock.

The same doctor walks out towards them. Freddie stops singing, and everything floods right back into Roger and John. He grimaces and prays that it helped.

“He’s in ICU,” the doctor begins with, “we’ve managed to close the wounds with stitches. We may need to debride the wound if it doesn’t start healing or an infection sets in.”

“Infection?” Roger frowns, “how would –”

“The Vampire blood,” he says, “it suppresses immunoreceptors making infections far more likely, and Vampire blood tends to carry the vampirism gene which is in direct conflict with lykanthropy.”

“And is that?”

“It’s a good thing your friend was bleeding out if such a thing could be good,” the doctor replies, “his brachial artery was severed, and the knife did extensive damage to his liver. There wasn’t much for the Vampirism to destroy. We’ll need imaging on his marrow.”

“Please stop,” John whispers, “can we see him?”

The doctor hesitates, “only family and spouses are allowed in ICU.”

“We’re his pack?” Freddie tries, “those two are his mates.”

For the first time, the doctor loses his cool demeanor in favor of looking shocked. Freddie realizes what he said and then shakes it off. It’s the truth. He will claim being part of a lykan’s pack and damn whatever society says about it.

“Only one at a time,” he says, “he’ll be in room nine on the fourth floor.”

“There’s a waiting room up there.”

“Thank you.”

The doctor nods and back to the Emergency Room. John stands first, helping to pull Roger to his feet. There’s no sign of red. Freddie bites his cheek, unsure of what he should do to get Roger to open back up to him. He has never seen his friend so withdrawn before. On the other had John almost seems fragile

They move slowly, choosing to take the steps instead of the elevator. Maybe to delay the inevitable. That right now they don’t have anything saying that Brian isn’t going to be hurt but propped up on the bed writing songs. Maybe even offering them a sleepy smile. Freddie doesn’t know how human hospitals work, but he doesn’t want to see Brian hooked up to so many machines.

The stairs don’t take enough time. Soon enough they’re opening the door to the fourth-floor lobby. Freddie holds the door open while gently tugging Roger through the door. John has his hands buried in his hoodie and looking like he’s trying to sink into it.

“Who wants to go in first?” he asks.

John looks sick and Roger shakes his head. Freddie, _truthfully, _doesn’t want to leave them alone despite them having each other. He doesn’t want to leave Brian alone, either, no matter how little he will know about their presence. If Brian can wake up to a room that smells like them, then he knows they’ll have been there enough for him.

“Okay, I’ll go see him. Grab our seats?”

He watches John jump at the opportunity to do something. John pulls Roger over to a bench in the corner. Roger sits down first and then pulls John to him, lacings his hands together over John’s stomach and resting his chin on John’s shoulder. Freddie sighs, at least he hasn’t completely withdrawn into himself and ends up denying John physical comfort.

“Brian May,” he says to the receptionist.

She eyes him over thick glasses, “ah, the new werewolf.”  
“Lykan. May I enter?”

The receptionist is clearly not going to change her mind any time soon, but she does open the door for him. Inside smells of sick and pain. He can’t imagine Brian healing in a place that smells to _him. _It takes him a while to find the room, it being shunted off the main area, into the “werewolf hallway.” A few of the rooms are occupied. The whines and the growls more guttural. When he peeks in, he sees large wolves strapped to the bed with tubes running to them.

Freddie closes his eyes and then hurries to the room he’s looking for. At the end of the hallway, he pushes open the door. Brian, he is in his human form _thank goodness, _is washed out by the sheets. There’s a heart monitor beeping in the corner, and a few IVs that he knows are silver laced because of the redness around them. Then he realizes they may not be silver at all, but regular needles that Brian can’t heal from.

He closes the door quietly. There’s no sign of twitching which usually accompanies someone entering their space. Freddie looks around, unsure of what to do. He sees a single hard plastic chair and he drags it over to where Brian is sleeping.

“Hello dear,” Freddie whispers, “you look better.”

Brian does. He looks pale, but not ashen and his hair is back to its wild self and not matted down by water and sweat. Freddie traces the bruise on Brian's neck but pulls back when he thinks he spots a twitch. There isn’t a jump in the heart monitor or any sign of Brian waking up.

“Do you feel better?”

He is not afraid anymore. Freddie couldn’t get near him at first because his body was instinctively flexing away from touch. Brian must feel better without the terror clouding his head. They must also be giving him pain killers if he can’t heal, which means he won’t wake up doubling over his cut.

Freddie glances towards the door, half afraid a nurse is going to come in and tear him away. His hand covers the bandage on Brian’s bicep, the heat can be felt through the thick gauze. He prays it isn’t infected, Brian is weak enough without something wracking (else) his system. Then he squeezes just below where the IV is sticking out of his hand. There’s one spot he wants to check, and carefully moves the hospital gown where Freddie is met with another bandage.

This one has dark splotches on the surface. They aren’t growing which reassures him that the doctors did close it properly. Freddie reaches down and touches it. There isn’t any heat to it.

Brian makes a soft breathing noise. Freddie glances towards him, but there isn’t a change on his face. He shakes his head, they’re probably keeping him asleep for now, so that he can heal. There is an oxygen mask over his face and knowing Brian he’d be pawing it off.

“Well, you’ll be grumping around in no time.”

Freddie stands to smooth some of the curls that have fallen into Brian’s face. It’s strange, feeling Brian at a human temperature. Not cold by any means, but noticeable compared to the furnace that he usually is. He keeps petting the curls, convinced that Brian’s eyes are tightly shut to protest waking up as he does in the morning.

“Hmm, I’m sure you’d like something other than oxygen and hospital to smell.”

The only clothes that he has are blood-soaked. He ignores the way his shirt has stuck together. It’s ruined and he should probably go find something to change into. He wishes that he had something to give Brian to fill the room.

“Try to be more active for Roger and John?” Freddie asks, “they’re a mess right now.”

“Why did you go off alone, knowing that those men were there? John would have been fine, and you wouldn’t have been messed with.”

Freddie’s voice increases in tempo, “but you’re stubborn and caring, you wanted to make sure that John would be comfortable. Except you didn’t think about yourself. You know the stories about America.”

Tears start to fall for the second time tonight. The first had been when he was so certain that the paramedics were going to get there seconds too late because Brian’s gaze was too unfocused. He grips the bedsheet, unable to catch a hint of Brian’s scent on them. Makeup stains the white fabric. Freddie bites into his palm to keep his sobs quiet.

The nurses are used to it, but he needs to be strong. Brian can’t be, and both Roger and John need to heal first. Freddie is the oldest, he should be able to handle this. He reaches down and wraps his hand in Brian’s glancing down and the chipped white nail polish. He leans down when he sees something else, brown and flakey.

Freddie glances up to Brian’s face. It’s scarily peaceful, he knows Brian never sleeps well unless he is with Roger or John or both. Nightmares and fears twisting their way into his head. Telling him everything that he isn’t all because of his blood.

He extends Brian’s hand and holds it up to the light. Brown covers the tips of his fingers. Freddie knows what it is without looking. How had _Brian _been pushed that far? What had those men threatened? His stomach twists painfully at the slight pleasure that at least one of those hunters is suffering.

As much as he doesn’t want to, he sets the hand down. Freddie’s never been afraid of Brian, but he’s been reminded of what lykans can do if pushed. He still isn’t afraid of Brian, but he can’t align the two in his head, it’s always been Brian and Wolf, except now he sees that they aren’t sperate.

“I’m sorry,” Freddie says.

He can’t believe that he’s even thinking like this. Brian is Brian. Brian would never hurt anyone. Brian was put into a situation where he would die if he didn’t fight back.

His hands suddenly feel like they’re sticky and covered in blood again. Freddie kisses Brian once on the cheek and steps out of the room. He needs to wash his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, leaving Roger and John alone can only be good, right?  
As always, leave your thoughts and comments below, or come talk to me on tumblr!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't forget about it I promise!! There's just been a lot happening, but we're good, it's updated. And a little bit time jumpy, but you know what, I'm trying to find a balance of Hospital and moving the plot along.  
So I kind of took a page out of Melancholy's style book.   
Enjoy!

John stands back watching Roger click his teeth. He isn’t sure what the issue is, but since Freddie vanished and the latest group of worried humans came into the ICU he hasn’t sat down once. One of the women keeps glancing over at them. Well, most of them do, but that’s mostly due to the _very_ attractive, _very_ angry vampire. That woman though. She is different.

He groans and rubs his head. It feels like his hangover has a hangover, and John promises to never drink and drain again. Flashes of the night keep playing in his head and he keeps grabbing his stomach as though he had been the one stabbed. John closes his eyes. Brian is fine, and no matter what the phantom feeling of his life force slipping away tells him, he will be fine.

John is certain of that. As certain of that truth as he is of his love for Roger and Brian.

The woman takes a step forward, but Roger clicks his teeth at her. Hopefully, there won’t be another crowd because Roger’s… whatever is taking over half of the lobby.

“Roggie,” John calls, “love.”

It doesn’t seem to work.

“Roger.”

He stands and Roger wheels on him, pushing him back to the chair and curling around him. At least the pacing has stopped. John leans into the cool touch. Freddie should be back soon, and as bad as he feels, he needs a break from Roger. More importantly, he needs to confirm that Brian is _alive. _

That’s all.

“I don’t like the way she smells,” Roger murmurs.

John looks at the woman again. There isn’t anything particularly striking about her. Dark brown hair tied back, dark jeans and a heavy vest. Hot for summer. Then again, he doesn’t have the nose of Roger. He trusts that Roger knows what he means. Then again, Roger is also on edge and is edging towards paranoia.

“She hasn’t done anything,” John says quietly.

Roger shakes his head.

He grabs Roger’s wrist, soothing down the rigidity. Keep his hands busy. 

The woman moves towards them again. John straightens, either she is a fan (god no, not right now) or something else. He wouldn’t be surprised if it was to tell Roger to calm down, which is going to make the situation that much worse. Roger stands in front of him as she crosses the invisible barrier that Roger has made.

“What do you want?”

John backs away. He has never heard that tone from Roger. Roger getting upset and loud is something familiar, this… John doesn’t know what this is.

“I wanted, do you have any – I’m sorry,” she says.

She doesn’t move forward.

“You must be Roger and John.”

John grabs onto Roger’s hand when he sees the rigid lines form. He doesn’t move his eyes away from the woman. He does not like that she knows their names.

"I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

Roger breaks away from his grip, rather easily. John rubs his hand, worried that something had been broken when Roger wrenched away from him. Roger strides across the room. John holds his aching hand to his chest, rubbing it to try and ease the pain.

"You?”

_What?_

“Not me!” The woman holds up her hands.

His jaw clicks and John knows that if Roger had been human his teeth would have cracked. He lifts his hand to his neck, rubbing a thumb over the two circular scars on his neck.

"They were – it was – I stopped it!”

"Didn’t seem to work, considering where we’re at!’

John startles at the volume. He stands up and takes a step forward before hesitating.

“I never thought –“

“Hunters never do! They only think with their knives!”

_Oh. Hunter._

"He is alive because of me!”

Roger snorts. John knows that if he was holding anything it would have shattered. He jumps back when Roger shoves the woman. She stumbles backward, and John rushes forward, praying that Roger isn’t going to lash out at everyone. Roger has never been angry enough to lash out like this.

He glances towards the door when it opens. Freddie is striding out, looking paler than when he went in. _Help, _John mouths. Roger takes another step forward and Freddie steps in front of him, pushing him back. It almost looks like Roger is going to fight against Freddie, but he does take the step back.

“What on Earth? Roger stop your aura projecting!” Freddie gasps, before turning towards the woman, “why are you still here?”

She stands up dusting her pants off, “because I thought you’d be grateful`. It doesn’t matter, you lot are still always so aggressive to people who aren’t like you.”

Roger pushes against Freddie’s arms, “piss off!”

“What’s with him? He a freak too?” The woman nods to John.

“Leave him out of this,” Roger growls.

“Please leave,” Freddie says, “can we get security?”

The receptionist starts dialing on her phone. John prays that the woman leaves before security gets here. This might get pinned on Roger considering all the woman had done was speak. She turns her hair before stepping towards the elevator. John sighs in relief. He doesn’t understand.

“What the hell?” Roger erupts kicking one of the chairs.

John jumps and steps behind Freddie, who has his lips pressed tightly together.

“We should be grateful for her stopping it? She should have the decency to not have done it in the first place!”

Freddie nods, “John, why don’t you go sit with Bri, I’ll get Roger to see sense.”

He backs away. Freddie is sending him away; this is one thing he does hate about being the only human one. Usually, he fights, but his hand throbs and this time he goes without complaint. Part of him dreads seeing Brian, but maybe it’ll put his mind at ease.

John can’t stand seeing Roger like this.

The nurse points him in the direction he needs to go. John covers his ears to the noises of the ICU. He can’t imagine how anyone can stay in this place for any length of time. It feels like death is crawling around every corner. He practically dives into Brian’s room, shutting out the noise. 

John looks up. It is hard to put this Brian together with this one from the afternoon when he snorted water because Roger had made a fool of himself. Brian is completely still, skin nearly matching the sheets. He sees where bandages disappear into the fabric of his nightgown. 

Can he go further?

Brian looks so fragile.

Will he break?

Slowly he takes a step closer and then again. Freddie must have brought the chair over and he sits down holding the hand with the IV in it. The skin is so warm and red. Brian is usually warm, but this feels more like the warmth of sickness. John bites his cheek and shakes his head. There is no way. Lykans don’t get sick. They can’t.

He also doesn’t know what Vampire blood does to a lykan. It turns humans, but Roger and Brian have always said it’s bad for them both. John lifts his hand to his lips and kisses it gently. For a moment he waits for Brian to react and then drops the hand down to the bed and folds over himself in the chair.

John closes his eyes and presses his knees to his forehead. He can’t get over that icy burn in his stomach. He reaches over to feel the bandages underneath the paper gown. There is a slight twitch as he ghosts his hand over the spot. For a moment he thinks that Brian is waking up, but he remains unconscious. 

Has Freddie managed to calm Roger down? John doesn’t think that he can spend another minute here. He _hates _hospitals. The feeling is that it's much worse seeing one of his greatest loves laying so still. Nearly corpse-like save for the rise of his chest and the beeping of the monitor.

Which is speeding up. John looks up, the heart rate has risen from 63 to nearly 70 and it slowly picks up. He stands when it breaks ninety. Brian’s heart shouldn’t be working this hard when he isn’t doing anything. John pushes out of the chair and flings the door open.

“Nurse!” He yells.

_Sorry, _he thinks to the patients.

A young nurse rushes over to him, looking both concerned and annoyed, she must’ve been going to a different room.

John gestures vaguely into the room, “his heart rate is rising?”

The nurse blinks before stepping into the room, she spends a few seconds staring at the monitor before dropping the bed and slamming her hand onto one of the buttons. Something rings down the hallway.

“Sir, I’m going to ask you to step out.”

He bobs his head and scurries out of the room. John doesn’t care to know, his heart is already in his stomach and not wanting to get in the way of any of the medical professionals. A doctor and another nurse rushed past him into the room. John slides down the wall, pulling his limbs tightly to him.

He covers his ears trying to block out the noises coming from Brian’s room. This is the ICU, they should expect something like this. Brian would have just been admitted if they could have stabilized him in the ER. He wants to go back out to his ignorance in the lobby, let Freddie or Roger handle this. It doesn’t feel right until a nurse comes out and tells him what’s happened.

Certainly, it is a problem with his heart. John bites down on his cheek hard enough to draw blood.

There is no telling how long he sat there waiting for any news. He peaks up from his arms when he hears the door finally open. It’s the doctor who looks harried.

"We’ve got him back into sinus rhythm,” he says, “but there’s no telling what’s going on inside between the Vampire blood and his immune system.”

“What is the worst-case scenario?”

The doctor blinks, “well, it is too soon to say. I would much rather get him through the night.”

The worst case is death. John had expected it but now it feels like it is just around the corner. He stands up and wipes the dust from his pants. John clears his throat and looks back towards the room.

“May I go in?”

“He is stable now.”

John nods and steps back into the room. The movement has shifted Brian’s position. Yet despite not waking up, Brian looks even more exhausted. His eyes sunken into his skin and it looks like rust is seeping through his bandages on his arm. He resumes his position in the chair.

What the hell are they going to do if it does end up as the worse case?

* * *

Freddie manages to convince John to be the one staying the night. Roger is still too “vampirey” as Freddie put it to see Brian. He doesn’t want to be here in the same way that this is the only place he should be. The hours tick by. He watches the shadows on the ceiling grow.

Occasionally a nurse floods the room with light from the hallway as she checks on Brian. Then vanishes without saying a word.

Brian made it through the night. He is supposed to be relieved.

* * *

Two days after that Roger gets a twenty-four-hour eviction from the hospital because he broke a chair. John is back in the room with Brian. He sees where the infection is spiderwebbing out of the bandages. The broken chair makes more sense. The doctors _can’t _do anything about it. 

They don’t know how to treat an infection in a lykan.

John rubs Brian’s hand. It’s growing large with fluid. Red and puffy around the IV line.

“Come on Bri,” John mumbles.

* * *

Another day after that the doctor recommends that they consider amputation.

“How long until it’s too late?” John crosses his arms.

Roger isn’t allowed in yet and Freddie is staying with him to make sure he doesn’t do anything rash. They don’t need a tail of Hunters. Waiting for Roger to slip and give them a reason to take him out.

Even though the American Hunters don’t need a reason.

“The infection is rapidly moving through his body. Maybe two days or maybe an hour before it reaches his nervous system.”

“Is there anything you can try?”

The doctor coughs, “we can try an aggressive round of antibiotics. It’s the vampirism along with a bacterial infection that got in through that cut in his arm.”

John pinches his nose. Brian’s life is literally in his hands. He doesn’t know what to do.

“We’ve put in the paperwork to have Lykan O-type blood transferred to us.”

“What will that do?”

John reads his name tag for the first time that he has been here. Doctor Henry checks his clipboard, “we’ve got the approval now we just need enough. If we can remove the vampirism or a good portion of the infected blood, then it might give him a chance for his immune system to restart.”

“So what?”

"We’re replacing all the blood in his body.”

He feels sick. John presses his crossed arms to his stomach and digs his fingers into the side. Even in human medicine, he hasn’t heard of such a thing.

“We’ll be cycling out, and Mr. Deacon, if I may,” Doctor Henry clears his throat, “we’re desperate enough to try experimental treatments. If you want to give him a chance, let us amputate.”

John shakes his head, “I can’t make that choice. Losing his arm would cause him to lose a lot of himself. Try the treatment first and give him that chance to heal himself.”

Doctor Henry frowns, “he might not make it until then.”

“Well, that’s on me,” tears make his vision blurry, “I can’t make this decision without his other mate here anyway.”

“Very well.”

John doesn’t miss how he leaves the clipboard with the consent form. He grips Brian’s hand. There is a tiny bandage where they had to use a needle to remove some of the fluid to preserve the circulation.

“What would you want me to do, Brian?”

He presses the palm of his hand to his eyes, “I can’t be the one that lets you die.”

* * *

The blood arrives in the middle of the night and John waits in the lobby with Roger. They’re cutting it incredibly close.

“What do we do?” John leans into Roger.

Roger’s arms wrap around him, but it feels like a response. Automatic. Freddie squeezes his shoulder.

“We hope.”

* * *

Three days after the transfusion, Brian’s vitals are out of the dumpster. There are more white blood cells, which the doctors are taking as a response that Brian’s body can finally fight things rather than preserve what it can. The spiderwebbing has reversed and only leaves the knife wound, putrid and pussy but not actively killing Brian.

John bites the palm of his hand. He’ll take it.

Now if Roger will talk to him and help him, then they might be getting somewhere.

Freddie is fighting with the label about changing their deadlines.

Brian sleeps on.

* * *

The first change comes later that same afternoon. Roger has already stormed out infuriated by the lack of response from Brian. John scowls because he wishes he had the right to just _leave _whenever it suited him. Someone has to be here for Brian, and while Freddie is, John has an inkling that a mate’s presence helps.

John is doodling on the back of a paper pad when he hears a groan. He shakes his head, wondering what is happening in the room next to him.

It repeats, but louder. John sets the paper down to the side and looks at Brian. His eyebrows are furrowed, and his mouth is moving. John stands up, knocking the chair over. The noise causes the briefest appearance of hazel. He reaches over, careful not to touch Brian when he doesn’t know what is happening.

John bites his cheek before lifting his wrist under Brian’s nose. He knows that oxygen is probably making smelling things difficult but maybe.

“Joo-” Brian slurs.

The nurse rushes into the room, “what was that racket?”

"He is waking up.”

* * *

John kisses Brian on the cheek when he enters the next morning. Brian isn’t awake, but it seems like there is more life in him today. His arm looks better even if his skin is still pale and his cheeks are sunken in. Roger cried yesterday when he saw Brian’s eyes for the first time. 

He hasn’t found the moment to fully let the stress hit him.

As he sits down, he sees that he woke Brian up with his appearance. His eyes are barely tracking his movements. Doctor Henry had informed them that it might take a while for Brian to completely wake up, as it were. John couldn’t care less because he’s happy that Brian is reacting at all.

"Hey Brian, how are you feeling?”

Brian’s eyes flutter closed and then back open. John reaches up and runs a hand through his curls. They’re flat and greasy, maybe he should see about dry shampoo since Brian isn’t any more mobile. Brian pushes against his palm, and John lets his wrist hover underneath his nose.

He smiles sadly as Brian falls back asleep. John misses him for all that he is grateful Brian is healing. That tiny interaction exhausts him.

Maybe Roger will start behaving like the man that John fell in love with.

* * *

Roger is the first person Brian speaks to. John tries not to feel irritated at that fact because he’s the one that has spent the most time with Brian these past few weeks. He should only be happy that Brian is speaking at all.

Eventually, he’ll start walking and then they’ll get to go back to London and John will stop having to watch their back around every corner.

John is humming along to one of Roger’s unfished songs when Brian wakes up. His movements are stiff and groggy, but all he needs to do is raise his arm to catch John’s attention.

“Nice.”

“What is?”

“Your voice,” Brian rasps, “’s nice.”

“Thank you. Not as nice as yours or Roger or Freddie’s even.”

Brian shrugs and rolls. John stands and helps him into a sitting position. He’ll be asleep again in half an hour, but at least they’ll be able to get something in him. No solid food yet, but if Brian can keep the water down, then they’ll start trying. John hopes that it is going to be a no-fuss mess.

“Continue?” Brian breathes.

“Singing?”

"I like it.”

“Only for you.”

* * *

Freddie is in the room with Brian. He is finally staying awake for a few hours at a time. John is glad that the others are more interested now. Roger sits cross-legged on a bench with his head tilted back.

John wanders over to him, Roger’s arms opening automatically. He grimaces but sinks into the offer of comfort. Roger’s hand strokes through his hair.

“I’m sorry,” Roger whispers.

“For what?” John mumbles.

“A lot. I’ll try to make it up once Brian is okay.”

John rolls so that his back is pressed against Roger’s front, “our lives aren’t paused. We still need to live.”

“I – yeah.”

John raises an eyebrow.

“I forgot you’re human. You’ve been handling this so much better than I have been. You’re young.”

“We’re the same physical age, Roger.”

“I. We are. I’ll try to be better.”

“Now that Brian is out of danger,” John replies bitterly.

“I swear, I’ll try to make it up to you.”

John shakes his head, “you should have been here.”

“I know.”

“And you weren’t.”

“I know.”

John stands up, “and if Brian had died, it would have been because of me. I was making the choices!”

"I wouldn’t have been your fault,” Roger raises his hands.

"It most certainly wouldn’t have been yours. Brian needed you! I needed you!”

Roger stands too, “and what about what I needed? This isn’t just about you and what you need!”

“I understand you needed time! You could have extended the same to me! Let me get out and clear my head! But no!”

Roger steps away from him, his mouth opening. Freddie steps between them, one hand on his chest and the other raised in Roger’s direction. John’s chest is heaving, and the anger simmers in his belly.

“You don’t get to baby me and then leave me to make all the hard choices,” John spits before turning and leaving the ICU. 

* * *

John feels bad about his outburst. Not enough to apologize yet, because Roger did need to hear it. The guilt does hit because when he walks in to visit Brian, _not _in the ICU, he lights up and John can practically see the tail wagging.

“John,” he greets.

His voice is still raspy, but it's stronger. Some of his color has returned to Brian’s face too. He smiles and sits on the edge of the bed. There are fewer wires for them to get tangled in. Brian can breathe on his own and now he can eat and drink with only a little bit of help. He rubs his hand on Brian’s thigh.

"Hey, you,” he smiles, “how are you feeling?”

“Still exhausted.”

John huffs at Brian’s annoyed face. It’s like he expected to be up and running a marathon.

“You’re healing.”

Brian crosses his arms, “I should be healed by now.”

John notes he winces when he moves his right arm and it moves stiffly. He wiggles closer. He then gives up on trying to be sneaky and instead just climbs fully onto the bed and resting his head on Brian’s left shoulder. Brian helpfully uncrosses his arm, keeping the right one pressed against his liver. John hums.

Finally, Brian feels warm again.

* * *

Traveling is stressful. Their luggage was sent ahead with their techs, save for the Red Special which has been in Freddie’s care the entire time. She gets the fourth seat in the row, even though the airline was already upset they were requesting seats together in the first place.

They managed, but it is in the back of the plane and it is making Brian’s already uneasy stomach worse. John rubs his stomach as he lay spread out over them. Freddie is playing with his hair, carefully plaiting it and keeping it from getting sweaty. Roger digs his thumbs into Brian’s calves to calm him.

John feels every flex of Brian’s stomach every time they hit a spot of turbulence and how he clenches his jaw. They need to make lykan strength motion sickness medicine. Any kind of medicine.

"How are you holding up, dove?” Freddie whispers.

“It feels like my stomach is in my throat,” Brian grunts.

“So better?” Freddie forces a laugh.

Brian narrows his eyes, but they’re forced to close at another shock of bumpiness. John keeps his fingers moving, carefully not disturbing the bandage, they had to wrap it to keep from something pulling on the stitches.

“Just a few more hours,” John hums.

“Hours?” Brian groans.

Then we’ll be in London, and that’ll be much better,” Roger says.

“I hope.”

* * *

John helps Brian to bed and lets out a long sigh of relief. Finally, they’re home, nearly a month later but home regardless. The Red Special is carefully placed on here stand and Brian is resting able to finally stretch out his long limbs without the fear of tugging on something or falling out of a narrow bed.

His head is buried in Roger’s pillow and John’s is held against his stomach, clearly wanting to surround himself with the scent of them.

Roger wraps around him and places a light kiss on his neck, “thank god, we’re home.”

"The next American Tour is too soon,” John agrees.

“We’re going with extra security. I don’t care.”

John holds one of Roger’s hands, “we will.”

“I am incredibly sorry, for everything. I never thought. I was so upset at myself. That I let Brian go alone even though I knew –”

“Hush now my dear,” John says softly, “I am sorry, too, you know. About losing it.”

Roger laughs, watery and light, “you had every right. I was a shit friend and a shitter mate.”

“We can’t all be perfect.”

"Unless you’re me,” Freddie says as he passes.

Roger rolls his eyes and gently clicks his teeth. Freddie looks unimpressed and places a kiss on Roger’s cheek. John lets out another relieved sigh. They’re finally finding their feet again.

“Quiet,” Brian slurs, “come nap.”

“Have fun,” Freddie takes a step away.

Freddie too. Pack pile.”

John pulls Roger in who eagerly replaces John’s pillow with himself. Freddie stays outside of the room, biting his lip. John reaches out and tugs it free, “stop that. Come on.”

“But don’t you three want your own time?”

“We’ll get it soon enough,” John whispers, “come on, pack pile.”

“I’m not a dog.”

Brian whines, “come on.”

John arches a brow and leaves Freddie to choose. He climbs on Brian’s other side, burying his nose into the thick curls which are finally regaining their liveliness now being properly cared for. Only after a few more seconds does Freddie climb in behind him.

“Only for a moment.”

“Of course.”

* * *

They’re forced to start recording only a week after getting home. Freddie makes Brian stay on the couch and write songs or make changes to what they’ve already written. The guitar can be done at a later date when his legs aren’t shaking.

Brian doesn’t like the treatment, frequently John has heard him grumbling and growling about this current arrangement. He is starting to worry now about how long it will take Brian to recover. A lykan shouldn’t have the recovery time of a human, no matter how badly they were hurt.

Although he doesn’t know that for certain. Both Freddie and Roger seem more keen to just keep Brian from overexerting himself. As long as Brian assures them that he is fine, he is usually asleep halfway through the day. Sniffing the jacket left on the couch. It doesn’t matter whose it is, so long as it's one of the pack's. John smiles and wonders what is so alluring about BO and sweat.

It must be something more than that.

He nudges Brian to the side. Freddie and Roger are currently bickering over a harmony, something about Freddie wanting to be the high part of the harmony, even though Roger has a better falsetto. He stopped listening when they moved away from the bass.

“Hello handsome,” he whispers.

Brian smiles and nuzzles into his neck, “hello yourself.”

“Getting any work done?”

“Mmm yeah,” Brian hums.

“Really?”

“I’m letting my thoughts marinate.”

John laughs, “and here I thought that you were getting a nap in.”

“Never, I’m a professional.”

John kisses the corner of his eye, “clearly. How are you feeling otherwise?”

“Sluggish. Think I ate too much.”

He clicks his tongue. Brian hadn’t had much at all for breakfast, some loch and capers. Better than some mornings previously where it was only half a piece of toast. John runs a hand over Brian’s stomach, willing away the ache. They let Brian get away with eating only two meals because they want him to eat something at least.

“Maybe it’ll ease up before supper?”

“I’m not doing anything to be hungry,” Brian noses at his neck.

John tilts his head and lest Brian has more access to mouth and sniff at the skin. He tightens a curl and lets it bounce back now in a looser coil. Freddie screeches and John turns enough to see that Roger has him pinned to the ground and they’re wrestling.

Brian looks around him. Once comforted that nothing is happening to Roger he goes right back to being buried in John’s neck.

“Do I smell that good?” John laughs, “or is it what you associate the scent with?”

“Both,” Brian hums.

John kisses him on the forehead. Brian licks a stripe up his neck. John giggles and presses his nose to the spot where Brian’s jaw and neck meet. It earned him a deep rumble.

“Hey!” Roger calls, “I feel like I’m missing out!”

Brian whines and attempts to look at Roger, but John keeps Brian’s head still. Feeling the curl of Brian’s breath against his neck is soothing in the best way possible. He won’t take it for granted again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, leave your thoughts and comments below or come talk to me on tumblr.  
Apologies for the fic spam today!  
Oh and see, nothing happened when Freddie left John and Roger alone. Or rather, much didn't happen.  
And guess we get to deal with an angsty vampire and a sensitive lykan next chapter


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, an update
> 
> please enjoy!

Roger thought bringing Brian home would be the end of the Six Weeks of Hell (as he had taken to calling it, and Hell was probably nicer than what they’ve gone through); however, and Roger finds himself looking for an outlet. Brian is nearly as pale as him. He sleeps more than he ever has in the time that Roger as known him, and the good nights are when they’re only woken up twice from nightmares. These past two weeks have felt like not only has the other shoe dropped, but repeatedly kicking them.

He is terrified. They’re home, safe in London, but it feels like he doesn’t have his Brimi back. For a moment he leans against the wall and sighs – humans have such helpful breathing emotions – and then adjusts the tray before knocking on Brian’s door.

“Yeah?”

“I’ve got food.”

Brian groans. His heart twists, this would be the fourth meal denied in two days. Roger might not need to _eat _but he knows that all living beings need food to survive – they need more to heal. He clicks his teeth and pushes open the door. He keeps a tiny smile on his face and cheers internally when the smile is returned.

_Small victories, Rog._

The tray goes on the nightstand and he sits on the bed.

“How are you feeling?”

A shrug.

Not that Roger knows many lykans intimately but he has never seen or heard of one taking so long to heal. The vampire blood can’t have been _that _potent, and it should be gone after the full transfusion. Which might take a lot out of someone now that he thinks about it. Then again, he has seen Brian heal from broken bones in an hour.

_How wrong I was, thinking that’s the worst I would see you hurt._

“Any pain?”

Brian shakes his head, greasy curls bouncing safely. _Ah, and back to the silent treatment. _He scoots a little closer to Brian’s legs and tries to ignore how he feels like he is shaking out of his skin. A hand wraps around his wrist. He looks up to see Brian’s hazel eyes dart away from his face.

Roger doesn’t want to push – but it’s been _so _long since Brian actively touched him.

“I –“ Brian hesitates, “I.”

Roger pulls his hand free, only to turn it around and hold Brian’s hand. He wants to know, wants to shake whatever it is out of Brian’s head. It won’t help either of them, but Roger won’t survive Brian pulling away again. His tongue is bleeding by the time Brian feels like he wants to speak again.

He keeps his gaze away from Brian’s eyes. It seems to calm Brian.

“I don’t – can’t – feel safe,” he whispers.

_Oh._

_Of course._

He hadn’t thought – _Brian was attacked of course there is_ – Roger curses. Desperately he wants to tear those hunters limb from limb but he can’t so he pushes his anger down. Brian looks at him and the back to their joined hands.

Roger squeezes.

“It’s like… if I let my guard down,” Brian looks at the window, “they’ll y’know.”

Brian folds in on himself. Unbidden he thinks about the first time he saw Brian let down his guard which was when he realized that Roger had changed his oil because it irritated Brian’s nose. From that moment on, there hadn’t been a wall between them but now all Roger sees are those walls. His anger simmers and he lets it go.

“What do you need me to do? How can I help?”

Brian stares, slack-jawed and _wounded. _A quiet whine leaves his throat. Roger’s back hits the bed as Brian buries his nose in his neck. The sniffling tickles, but he stops himself from giggling. Brian spreads his weight out on top of him.

Roger presses a kiss against Brian’s throat, he tenses so Roger moves away and lays his head back against the mattress. Brain carefully maneuvers them so they’re both on their sides and Roger more on Brian than on the bed. With a curious look, he raises his hand towards Brian’s curls. A nod.

He strokes the matted mess (and they’re going to have to work on that). Within a few moments, Brian is snoring quietly. Roger knows that Brian needs rest and this one seems more peaceful than previous ones. It feels like that is all Brian has done since coming home. He flexes his fingers.

_Please don’t let it get like **that**_ _again. _

A strange smell he can’t place fills the room.

Brian wraps around him and squeezes. It doesn’t hurt but Roger doesn’t like not having his arms free. He pauses his struggle when he hears tiny woofs and squeaks and rapid breathing. When Brian growls, Roger starts struggling in earnest. With one hand free he shakes Brian’s shoulder.

“Wake up, Bri!”

He pushes and Brian bucks up. Roger takes the momentary weakness in the grip to get himself away from Brian. The bed isn’t quite as large as he remembers it being and he falls to the ground with a soft noise. He looks up and catches a sharp glint of gold. Roger feels his fangs lengthen but then the gold fades and Brian’s breathing evens out.

“Roger! I’m so sorry!”

Roger blinks. Brian is awake?

“No,” he shakes his head, “don’t… what was that?”

Brian sucks in deep breaths. Roger slowly stands, it had to be a nightmare but Brian’s wolf had been too close to the surface. When was the last time he shifted? His eyes stay focused on the ground until Brian is breathing evenly.

He still can’t figure out what that smell is.

“Brian – I…”

“Can you leave me alone for now?”

The request isn’t unreasonable. Roger doesn’t want to leave though. That had been Brian losing control or the wolf forcing its will. He has no idea how. Brian looks up at him. Roger knows that Brian likes working though his problems on his own but that hasn’t been good for any of them. He grimaces but wipes the emotion from his face before Brian can catch it.

Roger shakes his head, what had been unreasonable is expecting everything to go back to how it was before America.

“Of course,” the words feel sticky, “I’ll be in the living room.”

Brian nods gratefully.

He barely stops himself from putting a fist through the wall when he hears the door lock behind him. Roger inhales once and moves to the living room. John looks up from where he had been working on… something. His pencil eraser is still between his teeth.

“How is he?”

Roger shrugs. The anger erupts again. One of Freddie’s fancy weights flies into the wall across the flat, quickly joined by a second piece. Two more thuds follow.

Brian may not need his anger, but Roger _feels _it. Every centimeter of progress Brian had made, changing how he acted to the world reacting to him, gone. All because some stupid fucks hated lykans for no goddamn reason.

John weathers the storm easily. He grabs Roger when he moves towards their record collection. Roger gently frees himself from John’s grasp, the hospital scene all too vivid in his mind. _Had that anger ever gone away?_

“Take a minute to calm down. We have to take it a step at a time,” John says.

“How?” Roger says dropping heavily to the table, “how can people be so… so violent… for no reason?”

“If you could understand it,” John says, “then the world would be worse.”

He tucks his face into his hands, “you don’t get it.”

“No, I suppose not. How could I possibly understand having one of my life-partners recovering from nearly _dying _because people hate the fact that he is breathing.”

Roger jumps at the anger, “I don’t mean that…”

“Then what do you mean? I love him too, know that I’m a human, but you don’t have to treat me like I’m somehow removed from all of this, I can’t be! It’s _Brian!_”

“You are!” Roger says, “but this _isn’t _about that.”

“You _are_ a human and that means that there is a part of this you won’t understand,” Roger amends, “because you have never lived it. Hell, I don’t understand it. I’m not a lykan.”

John crosses his arms, “then please, enlighten me and my fragile human self.”

“John…”

Roger puts a warning in his tone, this is an argument for another day.

“You’re right, that was too far. I’m sorry,” John looks away, “what did you mean?”

Roger clicks his tongue and directs John’s gaze back to him.

“I mean. You didn’t see him… before me, before Freddie, he’d jump at his own shadow. He was afraid of a part of himself because other people said he had to be…”

John’s hand squeezes his shoulder, “there is nothing you could have done. They might have gotten you too if you had gone.”

Roger shakes his head.

John moves his hand up to Roger’s hand and pulls him towards his chest. Roger noses against his neck before settling down on his chest. John’s heartbeat is almost better than any drum solo in the entire world, it’s always even and strong. Although Brian’s strong and fast heartbeat is comforting in its own way.

“I don’t know,” Roger admits, “I wish I had time to figure this all out.”

“I understand,” John says, “hey, I’m going to run and grab some more groceries. Give you a moment to yourself. You have Brian taken care of?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll be happy if he causes trouble,” Roger says weakly.

John kisses him on the nose, “he’ll be right as rain in no time, and we can finally do that thing he’s been promising.”

He faintly smiles at that thought, “I’ll be missing you every second.”

“Then I’ll be fast.”

Roger stands and turns up the volume on the TV set as John prepares to leave. He nods to himself, John’s right, only a little while longer before Brian is back to demanding perfection in the studio and giving them sweet kisses.

* * *

Roger shakes his head and grabs the cup of water before wandering to Brian’s room. He hopes Brian is feeling better now that he has had some time to himself. _Maybe Bri will be up for a puzzle or a tame game of scrabble? _

He is driving himself nuts doing nothing but worrying.

“Bri, I’ve got water.”

Brian looks up at him, his eyes blink slowly and they’re glazed over. Roger pauses and takes stock of Brian now. His cheeks are red. _A fever? _He frowns, the doctor said they should be past this.

“Rog,” Brian whispers.

Roger steps further into the room, the smell of infection and blood hit him. He wrinkles his nose and shies away. Then he rushes towards Brian. His palm touches Brian’s forehead and he pulls it away from the heat.

Brian lets out a tiny growl of protest.

“Bri, baby,” Roger says, frantically shoving the glass towards Brian, “why didn’t you say you had a fever?”

“Didn’t?” Brian asks.

“You didn’t tell me.”

Brian blinks and reaches for the water, it takes him a few attempts but one hand finally wraps around the glass. Roger notes that it is his injured arm, at least he is moving it. Which Roger thinks means that the appendage is infection-free. The water drops to the bed after he lets go and the cup gives a dull thunk as it hits the carpeted floor.

“Shit,” Roger reaches for one of the scattered t-shirts.

It looks like Brian doesn’t even notice the spreading wetness. Roger sniffs again. The smell is localized? He furrows his brow.

“Love, talk to me?”

“Roger,” Brian repeats, his eyes closed tightly, “hurts.”

“Hurts where?”

“Tum.”

“Your stomach hurts?”

He knows it isn’t fair to expect an answer from Brian but he has to figure out how bad this is. The yell from Brian’s lips makes his decision when Roger lightly presses against his stomach.

“Bri,” Roger whispers.

Brian stares at him but then his gaze starts to drift. Roger jumps up to hold Brian’s head in his hands, forcing the glistening hazel eyes to match his. He swallows back the guilt as he weaves a little of his charm into his voice. It’ll hopefully keep Brian from drifting too far.

“Can you stand?”

He cuts his cheek with his fangs.

“Roger,” Brian repeats, he sniffs and pushes his nose in Roger’s neck.

He looks around the room. The nearest phone is still in the hallway and he feels Brian’s claws dig into his spine. Roger gags as the scent of infection. Stronger this time. It almost overpowers the scent of blood. He lowers one hand to Brian’s stomach, pressing with a little more firmness.

Brian’s belly doesn’t feel solid, but it only makes everything more confusing.

Roger soothes the whines.

“Brian, hey,” he whispers, “we’re going to stand okay?”

If Brian doesn’t fight him, then he is more than certain that they can get to a hospital. Carefully he pushes up from his knees, more of Brian’s weight going on him as they stand. The whimpers grow in intensity until he has to stop, his knees half bent to Brian can breathe through whatever pain he is feeling.

“At least it won’t be a wasted trip, no?” Roger jokes.

At least he doesn’t have to breathe, because he would be hyperventilating right now. Brian in this much pain doesn’t make sense. He was healing, Nothing has happened to cause _this. _Roger tilts his head. _Do lykans get appendicitis?_

“No?” Brian mimics.

“How are you feeling?” Roger asks softly.

“Hurts. Roggie. Tum hurts.”

He strokes Brian’s sweaty curls, “I know baby. Shh.”

Can he carry Brian? They don’t have steps in the flat, just to the street. Brian doesn’t weigh that much. He kisses the top of Brian’s forehead.

“Up, on three,” Roger says, “one, two, three.”

Roger barely manages to keep himself upright as he pulls Brian’s knees up to carry him bridal style. Brian yelps, and then pushes his head into Roger’s exposed chest. Quiet whimpers and pants fill the room.

Even his knees feel warm. Warmer than usual lykan body temperature that is. His fever must be awful. Roger carefully takes the first step, prepared to toss Brian to the bed in case he can’t keep them upright. It’s slow, but he knows that he can make it to the car.

As he steps through the door his lips curl up automatically, “and fertility unto us.”

Brian doesn’t seem to appreciate his joke. Roger moves as quickly as he dares, debating if he should take Brian to the car and then come back to the house for shoes.

“You’re going to have to stand for a minute, love,” Roger says.

He tries to drop Brian’s legs as delicately as possible and lean him against the wall as Roger grabs his keys and wallet, Brian’s as well. Brian is still leaning heavily on him so Roger doesn’t think pulling on his sneakers would be the best idea. He eyes the clogs and swallows.

_Desperate times._

He slips them on and picks Brian back up just as the lykan’s legs begin to shake and his blinks grow longer. His eyes don’t track Roger’s fingers at all when he drags it in front of his face. Roger picks Brian back up.

“Well, let’s hope they don’t try to rob us, hm?” Roger says.

Brian twitches at his words but otherwise goes back to his spot on Roger’s chest.

The steps are a little more complicated than he assumed, nearly rolling his ankle on one of them. He jostles Brian a little more than is strictly necessary to keep him awake.

“You need some help?”

Roger looks up. It is their neighbor that likes walking his dog four times a day.

“Please,” Roger breathes.

The old man drops the leash and tells his dog to stay before picking up Brian’s other arm. Roger gently lets his feet go to the ground. Brian whimpers after letting out a growl at the man.

“Shhh,” Roger soothes, “you’re okay, Brimi.”

“What’s happened?” the old man asks.

“A fever. Infection? I don’t know,” Roger sniffs again.

The blood smell is stronger than the infection now.

“Are you sure you don’t want to call an ambulance?”

Roger blinks. The thought _hadn’t _occurred to him but then shakes his head to clear his head. If Brian can’t handle one stranger touching him, he doesn’t want to cause a crisis by scaring him anymore thank he already is.

“I can drive him just fine,” Roger answers, “my van’s just over there.”  
They stumble over to the van. He doesn’t know that it was easier with his neighbor’s help, considering that he is shorter than Roger _and _Brian keeps letting out weak growls every few seconds. It might be because of the pain.

Roger drops the keys twice when trying to unlock the van.

“Shit.”

“Breathe, laddie,” the man says, “think about your friend.”

He sucks in air through his nose, useless, but it does make his hands shake less.

“Okay.”

This time he manages to open the door. They nearly dump Brian into the seat, but Brian doesn’t seem to mind. Apparently too weak or unwilling to fight against them and he allows them to manipulate him like a doll.

“Thank you.”

The old man looks at Brian, “just make sure he gets better. You four remind me of my mates. Lost two of them in the war. Cherish them.”

Roger blinks, “er, yeah. I try.”

He gets a clap on the back before the old man whistles and his dog trots after him. Roger glances back at Brian who is resting his forehead against the glass.

“Can I get your name?”

“Willis! Now, go on.”

“Thank you,” he says again.

Roger darts to the other side of the van, grumbling when he steps into a puddle and his socks get wet. He shoves his keys in the ignition.

“Brian, which hospital is the lykan friendly one?”

Brian mumbles.

“Bri, my dear,” Roger makes his voice sweeter, “which hospital?”

This time Brian moves his head away from the window and looks at him blearily.

“Hospital?”

“Yes, hospital!” Roger tightens his grip on the wheel, “which one?”

If worse comes to worst he might be able to check Brian’s medical ID card. _I think lykans still have to carry those? _

“General?” Brian whispers.

“London General?” Roger confirms, “not saint whatever his name was?”

“General,” Brian sounds a little more steady.

Roger moves the car into drive and prepares to only break a few driving laws to get there. Brian sensing the conversation is over goes back to placing his head against the window. He keeps one hand over Brian’s pulse point. It’s fast and steady, but Brian’s skin is burning up.

The blood and infection smell fills the air of the van and Roger has to roll down his window. It doesn’t help much.

“There’s the hospital,” Roger says to himself as he takes a turn a little too fast.

“I’m going to run in and grab a nurse so…”

“No,” Brian pants, “no nurse.”

“You’ve got to go into the hospital.”

Whatever Brian says is lost because of the heavy slurring of his words. Roger checks for traffic before making another turn.

“Brian, please.”

“No leave.”

Roger really doesn’t want to drag Brian into the hospital from the parking lot. He bites his bottom lip in thought. It also isn’t worth the argument that Brian will try to make, or worse the damage he might do if separated from Roger.

“Okay, you need to walk a little.”

Maybe he can get Brian to use some of his own power. He gets lucky and gets into one of the first rows of the lot and then nearly slips when he steps into another puddle.

“How do you wear these?” He hisses.

He also cuts his tongue on his fangs, the muscle already sore. Brian seems a little more aware when Roger pulls him out of the seat, feeling only a little bad that he hadn’t remembered to tug on the seatbelt. He wraps both of Brian’s long limbs around his neck and pulls. For a moment he’s afraid they’re both going to go crashing down but he senses some of Brian’s weight being lifted from him.

The sniffling in his ear is a little annoying right now.

“Okay,” he says, “now I don’t get an embarrassing story to tell, huh. How I carried you into the emergency room?”

Brian deserves a little shred of dignity, considering he has to go back to being a patient. So soon. _Seriously, _Roger thinks, _how are we here again. Already?_

The security guard at the desk scrambles from his chair. Brian lets out a low grumble which breaks into a whine as Roger accidentally bumps against his stomach.

“Grab a chair, maybe, please?”

They spend a few seconds making sure that Brian isn’t going to take a tumble out of the wheelchair before moving to the receptionist's desk.

“How can I help you?” She says, and then clears her throat, “what kind of symptoms has he been experiencing?”

“A fever. Pain in his stomach. He’s pretty delirious,” Roger says, “we just got through treating him for – he’s a lykan.”

“A lykan?” She sniffs, “oh.”

Roger looks back at Brian, who is blinking slowly.

“Henry, can you take him back?” The nurse stands, “we can triage him in –“ she dials the phone, “hi, I have a lykan experiencing fever and stomach pain with a prior severe illness?”

Roger nods to confirm the statement.

“Henry, take him to room 5?”

The security card nods and wheels Brian away. Roger bounces his on his toes, “can I go with him?”

“You’re mates, correct? You’ll have to clarify that with the nurse.”

He bobs his head and nearly sprints to catch up with Henry. Brian’s whines die down as he grabs Brian’s hand. The skin is still hot to the touch, and he dreads to hear what Brian’s temperature is going to end up being. They dodge through the busy Emergency room corridors before stopping in the indicated room. Next to the five is a tiny wolf howling.

Roger sighs in relief, it seems that this hospital is much more welcoming than the one the in the states. He helps Henry get Brian on the stretch just as, he suspects, a tech steps into the room.

“Hi, sorry about everything,” she says, “we’re very cautious with sick lykans.”

“I understand, thank you.”

“I’m Madeline,” she says, “I’m going to get his vitals and can you answer a few questions? What’s his name?”

“Brian May. Yeah, that’s fine.”

Madeline quickly pulls on the blood pressure cuff and works it efficiently before checking Brian’s pulse and sticking a thermometer in his mouth.

“And how long has he been experiencing these symptoms?”

“I uhm, no longer than a few hours. We’ve been watching him closely.”

“You said he has been undergoing treatment? What for?”

“He was attacked. Some damage to his liver and arm. Vampire blood.”

Madeline’s eyes widened, “dear boy. Oh. I’m so sorry.”

Roger stares as he sees the eyes flash bright blue. He clears his throat.

“How long ago was this?”

“Six weeks.”

She writes something down, “and how did they treat him?”

“A full transfusion, I think?” Roger doesn’t exactly remember.

He feels horrid that he left John to deal with that alone. Shit. He is going to have to call and tell John. Who had Freddie said he was spending the day with?

“Okay, a nurse or one of the doctors will be in shortly,” she pulls the thermometer from Brian’s mouth.

Madeline clicks her tongue, “and in the meantime, I’m going to grab ice packs.”

He lets out a long breath and sags into the chair behind him. Roger bites his palm and his leg bounces. Brian’s fingers twitch and his eyes turn towards him, still unfocused.

“I’m here my love.”

A few minutes later, he is debating crawling into the bed himself to cool Brian down, Madeline and a new person enter into the room. Brian growls when Madeline sets an ice pack over the wrist Roger isn’t messing with.

“Hello,” the nurse extends her hand, “I’m Hannah.”

“Hullo,” he shakes it.

“We’re just going to get Mr. May set up on an IV and draw some blood while we’re at it,” Hannah says, “Mr. May, I’m Hannah.”

Brian blinks at her.

“You’re going to feel a prick, but it should feel better when we get these fluids in you, and we’re going to take a sample of blood to run a few tests on. Is that okay?”

“Yea,” Brian pants.

“Okay,” Hannah inclines her head to Madeline, “just hold onto…”

“Roger,” he says.

“Roger, just focus on him, okay? We’ll get out in a jiffy.”

He stands to help Brian roll slightly onto his side. Brian keeps on leg bent towards his stomach and bowed slightly. His hand makes tiny paths on his arm, before settling in Brian’s hair when Madeline lifts the IV kit.

Brian squeezes his hand when the needle is inserted, but Hannah tapes it down with quiet efficiency before pulling out a few vials of blood. She allows the saline fluid to flow freely.

“Okay, Madeline is going to give you a few more ice packs, we want to get that fever down,” Hannah says, “and I’ll be right back with some medicine.”

Hannah looks to him, “has he been able to keep food down?”

“So far as I know, but he hasn’t had much of an appetite,” Roger replies, “oh, and he has medicine for the… thing.”

“Do you happen to know what he was taking? Or know anyone who would have a copy?”

“Our… label might?” Roger says, “I can have one of our flatmates grab the bottles. I think it was just pain meds and penicillin maybe?”

“I’ll make a call,” Hannah smiles, “our phone for family is just around the corner, past the restrooms.”

“Thanks. Er…”

“Once we get the blood work in and that fever down, we’ll take him to x-ray and CT. Take a peek inside,” Hannah lifts her voice, “is that alright, Mr. May?”

Brian nods. His breathing seems easier.

Madeline sets a bag on his neck which earns a sharp yip. He rubs his thumb over Brian’s wrist.

“Hey, it’ll make you feel good, yeah. Like sleeping next to me?”

Brian stares at him. His eyes are still fuzzy.

“Okay, hit this button,” Madeline gestures to one on the remote, “if you need one of us. Otherwise, I’ll come by in about half an hour to check on his fever.”

“Sure.”

They’re left alone once more. Brian closes his eyes.

“Hey, babe,” Roger calls quietly, “rest a little, and I’m going to give a call to Freddie and John?”

“John?” Brian slurs.

“Yeah, Deaks will be here faster than calling a rabbit with a carrot.”

Brian lifts the corner of his lips, “too much sugar.”

“Eh,” Roger flicks his palm, “you’ll be good for a bit?”

“Sleep.”

When he hears Brian’s breathing even out he rests Brian’s hand on the pillow next to him before slipping out. He spots Hannah talking to a doctor, or at least a man with a lab coat on, and gestures with his head. She lifts a hand in understanding.

It takes him a moment to find the phone because he wasn’t expecting there to be an alcove with it. He walks past it, before looping back. Roger cuts his tongue with his fang again before dialing the flat. With any luck, John has come back with the groceries.

“Hullo?” Freddie greets.

“Fred?”

“Roger?” then loud enough to make him wince, “Deaky! Roger is on the line!”

He makes out yelling and a few thuds, “Roger?”

“John?”

Something is wrong.

Well. Something else is wrong.

“What’s happened?” Roger asks.

“What’s happened?” John says, his voice is shaking, “care to explain why the sheet in Brian’s room is covered in blood?”

“Covered?”

“Roger!”

He shakes his head, now isn’t the time to get lost in the details, but he probably should tell Hannah or Madeline. If Brian is coughing up blood or something else is bleeding. Although it explains the

“Roger!”

“Sorry. We – Brian and I – are at General. He spiked a fever and has a bad stomachache.”

“Shit,” John echoes.

“We’re in the back already. Just waiting for some tests and to drop the fever.”

The phone drops against the wall and Roger jumps.

“John! Don’t try driving… oh, that boy,” Freddie sounds exhausted, “we’ll catch a ride. Stay with him?”

“Of course.”

Roger hangs up and hurries back to the room where Brian remains peacefully asleep. He closes his eyes and tries to shove the image that’s been haunting him. Brian right after the attack. He hears quiet snuffles and drops into the chair next to him. One eye, mostly golden, cracks open before settling.

“I’m here, Brian.”

* * *

“An ulcer?” John asks.

Doctor Morrison glances at his clipboard and back up, “yes. A duodenal.”

“But how?” Brian asks weakly.

Roger smiles, mostly because Brian sounds much stronger than he has this past month.

“Well,” Doctor Morrison clears his throat, “I imagine you’ll need to go to a specialist for why and a more permeant treatment plan, but your white blood cells react in normal _human _time.”

“And that means?” Brian frowns.

Roger narrows his eyes. He briefly remembers seeing a table about healing factor time, lykans had the fastest, but he can’t remember why that it is. A stronger immune system and he isn’t surprised that Brian’s is overworked.

“That you’re healing at the rate a human would. If you had gotten an ulcer, and I imagine you’ve had them before, it would heal in minutes.”

Brian tilts his head, “yes?”

Doctor Morrison chews on the end of his pencil, “well. I can’t know for sure, and I do recommend seeing a specialist. Based on your test results, however, it shows increased immunoactivity. It can be a result of your ulcer, but based on other debris, I believe your body is still fighting the Vampire Blood.”

Roger holds onto John’s hand tightly. He feels Freddie’s hand drop onto his shoulder.

“And my healing factor is decreased because it's focusing on something completely.”

“Correct,” Doctor Morrison says.

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t want to make any assumptions or guesses,” Doctor Morrison said, “which is why I recommend a specialist.”

“But the worst case?” John asks.

“As I said,” Doctor Morrison coughs.

“He means that it might be possible that my healing factor is always going to prioritize the Vampire Blood,” Brian says softly.

Roger’s eyes flick up to Doctor Morison and back down to Brian. It makes sense, but he has never heard of something so… obscene. A lykan losing their healing factor because they were too hurt? Then again… lykan’s aren’t immortal. He shoots a look at John.

“But for now, the antibiotics are working and the ulcer has been repaired.”

Brian breathes out, “so what’s my recovery this time?”

Freddie winces, “we can delay the album, dear. I’ll… give the producers a stern talking to.”

He smiles at Brian’s laugh, “sure, Fred, but I want to know for me? I want to play Red again.”

“Oh sure, the guitar is more important,” John huffs.

“Hey!” Brian laughs, “I missed you too, but…”

Brian gives a half shrug and all of the light in his eyes fades away. Roger reaches over to ruffle Brian’s curls, which seem to be sagging underneath the weight Brian is putting on himself.

“I would say nothing strenuous for about three weeks. Gentle and easy meals, _no _spicy food. Be aware of your shift, I’d stay inside for that. To prevent you from eating a raw carcass too close to morning.”

Brian gags and Roger swallows thickly at the image. Freddie and John even look green around the edges.

“Apologies. Madeline will be in with the discharge papers and a care sheet. Take care, Mr. May.”

Doctor Morrison dips his head towards them as he exits. Madeline steps in as though she was waiting for that exact moment to present Brian with the paperwork. He is moving stiffly from yet another week in the hospital bed, but Roger can’t believe the changes between this Brian and the one they brought home from the American hospital.

He has half a mind to believe the dark thoughts about the American hospital missing the ulcer on purpose.

“Hey,” Brian calls.

Roger perks up, “yes, my love.”

“We’ll figure it out,” he says softly.

“Of course.”

John leans in and kisses his cheek before bending down to kiss Brian on the temple. Madeline knows they’re all mates and gives a soft smile before taking the clipboard back and sliding a package over to Brian.

“All your care instructions and Dr. Morrison took the liberty to give you a few names of lykan specialists. Go to your primary to get those stitches removed in another week, earlier if you start to heal around them. Keep them dry.”

Roger takes the envelope.

“Roger,” Brian calls, “help me up.”

John takes the envelope from him with a smug grin, “we’ll go pull up the car, Fred?”

Freddie winks at Madeline, “thanks for putting up with us.”

“Oh, it was a task,” Madeline giggles.

John offers a kind smile and then the three of them are gone. Roger busies himself around the room grabbing Brian’s clogs and overnight bag settled.

“Rog. Roggie.”

His head snaps up.

“Are you okay?”

Brian has already swung his legs over the side. They are already planted firmly on the floor, “please look at me.”

He steps forward and puts his hands on the side of Brian’s face. Brian turns his head into Roger’s palm and places his lips there, but he doesn’t move. They stay still for a few heartbeats before Brian closes his eyes.

“I’m getting better,” Brian says, “but I still…”

Roger watches Brian’s eyebrows furrow. He takes one hand and strokes down the side of Brian’s face. It takes a few more minutes before Brian opens his eyes.

“I’m still scared.”

“Okay,” Roger says.

Brian stares up at him, “and I hate it.”

He doesn’t know what to say. Roger knows he can yell about how Brian shouldn’t have to feel afraid because of a few bad individuals; he can also try to convince Brian that it wouldn’t happen again but Roger doesn’t know that for sure. Even claiming that it would happen with Roger around, he doesn’t know if it would help that much.

“I hate that you’re afraid too,” he finally says.

“Roger, I…” Brian coughs.

He scratches Brian’s scalp softly.

“Things aren’t going to be the same are they?”

Roger pauses his movement. He doesn’t know that they’ll be different, but he looks down at Brian. A loud clattering in the hallways causes them both to jump, but Brian also shrinks away with a low grumble.

“You’re okay,” Roger says softly, “we’ll. We’ll figure this out together, okay Brian?”

Brian bites his cheek.

“Listen, John, Freddie, and I, we’re going to help you figure this out and then we’re going to be back on tour and kicking ass, yeah?”

He resumes his scratching when Brian looks a little overwhelmed, “but we are more than willing to wait until you’re also ready.”

Brian pulls away and gestures towards his shoes. Roger bends down and helps him slip them on. There’s more he wants to say, more to comfort Brian.

“We’re in this together, forever.”

This time, Brian’s smile is as bright as it’s always been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got a little bit away from me, and isn't exactly my original intention. It does build on other things that will be happening later in the series.  
But yeah, I'm pretty happy with this and how it turned out.  
As always, leave your thoughts and comments below or come talk to me on tumblr.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't done a cliffhanger in a hot minute, let me have this.  
This is basically replacing the hepatitis incident, but yeah. As always, leave your thoughts and comments below or come talk to me on tumblr!!


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